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ench's International Copyrighted (in England, her Colonies, and 
he United States) Edition of the Works of the Best Authors 



No. 362 



FOR FREEDOM 

A PLAY IN ONE ACT 



BY 

IRENE JEAN CRANDALL 



CoPYEiGHT, 1918, By Samuel French 



AMATEURS MAY PRODUCE THIS PLAY WITHOUT PAY- 
MENT OF ROYALTY. ALL OTHER RIGHTS RESERVE! «. 



PRICE 25 CENTS 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHER 

2&-30 WEST 38th Street 



London 
SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 
26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 



FOR FREEDOM 

A PLAY IN ONE ACT 



BY 

IRENE JEAN CRANDALL 



CopYKiGHj, 1918, By Samuel French 



AMATEURS MAY PRODUCE THIS PLAY WITHOUT PA f 
MENT OF ROYALTY. ALL OTHER RIGHTS RESERVl ^ 



New Yobk 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHES 

28-30 West 38th STREET 



LOITDON 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Lrr 

26 Southampton Stbee 

STRAND 






DEDICATED 

to 

PAUL CODY BENTLEY 

(Croix de Guerre) 

who died September i6, 191 8, from battle 
wounds, and whose body rests in the French 
mihtary cemetery of St. Gilles, France. 
He gave his hfe for human freedom. 

" There is no death. They ^all survive 
And in another essence thrive. 
And somewhere in that boundless light 
Are striving still for truth and right." 

F. W. B. 



©CID 50112 
AUG -5 1318. 



r 



FOR FREEDOM 



Original Cast of the Play as first produced in 
Chicago, by the Chicago Dramatic Society, May 17, 
1918. 

Allan Heath William Z. Noiirse 

Winifred Heath Leila Dorothy Hobson 

Mrs. Prohaska Jane Rae 

Mrs. Fowler. Caroline Maillot 



FOR FREEDOM 



^ 



CHARACTERS 



Allan Heath 
Winifred Heath 
Mrs. Prohaska 
Mrs. Fowler 



Time: Day of Draft Parade^ August 4, 1917. 
Scene : Allan Heath's office, Chicago. 

4 



FOR FREEDOM 



Setting: Office of Allan Heath in a sky- 
scraper in the loop. Office desk with telephone 
(c.) Two windows (r.) look down on the 
street where the parade passes. A door (l.) 
opens into the hall '' The effect of the hand 
in the street helozv can be made realistic by 
playing a phoyiograph off-stage. The opening 
and closing of the doors zvill give the impres- 
sion of a band coming nearer and then passing 
on, as the music dies away in the distance." " 

Allan Heath is seated at a large office desk 
opening the morning mail. He is a broad-shovA- 
dered, well-developed young man of thirty- 
three. His clean cut face is strong and whole- 
some. He is the product of the American uni- 
versity and the foot-ball field— healthy, prac- 
tical, executive. He seems to be pondering a 
serious problem, but does not look fretted. As 
he opens his mail he throws the ads in the 
waste-paper basket and spreads important let- 
ters on his desk. The hall door opens and Wini- 
fred Heath comes in. She is a dainty, aristo- 
cratic young woman of tzventy-five. She wears 
a sport suit of the- style so popular in the sum- 
mer of 191 7, and carries a stunning knitting 
, bag. There is an imperiousness about WiNt- 
fred that stamps her as the child of privilege 
and luxury. 

5 



6 FOR FREEDOM 

Allan, zvho is scaled ivith his back to the 
door, does not hear her come in and goes on 
opening his mail. Winifred puts dozvn her 
bag, goes up softly behind Allan and places 
her hands over his eyes. He smiles and takes 
her dainty hands in his large, strong ones. 

Allan. Winifred, Fd know those hands of 
yours — if I were bHnd. 

Winifred. {Losing her szveet smile) As you 
might be if Fd let you go. (Suddenly die eking Jier- 
self) But we won't talk about it. 

Allan. {With a {roubled look) No— talk 
never gets us anywhere. {He places a chair for 
her to the right of the desk. She sits dozvn, takes 
off her gloves and begins to knit) How did you 
happen to come down to the' office this morning? 

Winifred. I thought Fd surprise you. {Look- 
ing at Allan zvitJi a repentant smile) Fm sorry 
that I was horrid at breakfast. 

Allan. My dear, Fm sure that even the angels 
lose their tempers at the breakfast table. So what 
can we poor mortals do? Especially now wdien the 
price of eggs and bacon is going up like a sky- 
rocket. 

Winifred. It's nice of you Allan, to joke it off, 
but you know that our quarrel this morning had 
nothing to do with the eggs and bacon. 

{The telephone bell rings. While Allan anszvers 
the phone Winifred goes on zvith her knit- 
ting.) 

Allan. (At phone) Hello — Yes, Miss Carter. 
— Umph. — No, you needn't come down to-.day. 
(Looking at his zvatch) It's ten o'clock now and 
since we close the office at noon on Saturday it 
wouldn't be worth while.' — Yes, there's a lot of mail 



FOR FREEDOM 7 

this morning, but if you come on time Monday vou 
can get it out. Good-bye. " ^ 

Winifred.^ Was that your stenographer? 

Allan. Yes. She phoned she wasn't well this 
mornmg and couldn't get started on time, but should 
she coine now? She'd get here just in time to close 
the office. No. She can do e^tra work on Mon- 
day. 

Winifred. You're not very sympathetic. How 
can the poor girl help being sick ? 

Allan. She probably went on an automobile 
ride last night and overslept this morning. 

Winifred. Why don't you discharge her? 

Allan. Can't. I hate to confess it, but a bus- 
iness man is dependent on his stenographer. She's 
the only one in this firm who knows how to 
spell. 

Winifred. W^ell, I'm glad she isn't here this 
morning, because I'm going to take possession of 
your office and see the parade from your window. 
{She goes to the zvindozv v>. r. and' looks down) 
What a view of the street ! 

Allan. Great! Isn't it? I thought vou said 
at breakfast that you didn't want to see the bovs 
march to-day. 

Winifred. I said a great many things at break- 
fast because I was excited, but 1 am patriotic You 
can't deny that. 

Allan. {Picking up the army sock) You knit 
— knit — knit. 

Winifred. And roll bandages. 

Allan. (IVith a zvhimsical smile) And can 
and preserve— that is you have the 'cook do it. 

Winifred. {Interrupting) That isn't fair,. Al- 
lan.- I've given up bridge and go to two classes 
111 canning every week. 

Allan. Yes, and one class in First Aid and a 
lecture on Belgium Relief and a committee meeting 



8 FOR FREEDOM 

for the French Wounded — and Heaven only knows 
what else. 

Winifred. And then you say I'm not patriotic. 
What more can a woman do? 

Allan. (With intense feeling) Let me go to 
France and play a man's part. 

Winifred. No — no — Allan. There are so many 
to go and we can help here in other ways — with 
relief work and money. We can sell our car and 
our place at the sea shore and give an ambulance. 

Allan. But they need men. 

Winifred. But not you, Allan, — not you. You 
are above the draft age ^and married. 

Allan. Fm thirty-three — strong, healthy and 
a trained civil engineer. They need me over there. 

Winifred. {Softly) But I need you here. 

Allan. You are well provided for. 

Winifred. {Hurt) Oh, Allan, is that all? Is 
our love nothing? We have been married only six 
months and I cannot give you up. 

Allan. I told you this morning. Winifred, that 
I would not sign up without your consent. To keep 
my nerve and carry on to the end, I must feel that 
you are back of me. A woman doesn't realize how 
much she can do to keep the spirit in a man — or 
take it out of him. The women behind the firing 
line are fighting in this war. 

Winifred. And you want to leave nie and go? 

Allan. {Standing up) Yes, there's a big job 
for every man to do and I want to have a part 
in this great war for democracy. This is a time for 
sacrifice. 

Winifred. I'll give up everything but you. (She 
goes up to him with all the allurement of which a 
fascinating woman is capable) Remember our love. 
We have been so happy. I feel that if you go you 
will never come back. The aviation corps is so 
dangerous and you are so daring. 



FOR FREEDOM g 

Allan. A man can die but once. 

Winifred. Allan, don't.— I can't bear it. Our 
happniess has been so short and so wonderful We 
can t part now. Don't leave me. (She puts her 
anus around his neck) 

Allan. (Yielding to her) No, dearest Fll 
never leave you— unless you sav " go ". (Suddenlx 
lie takes her arms from his neck and turns azvay) 
Uh— you^ women— with your soft arms— you hold 
men captive. 

Winifred. {JVith a proud toss of her head) 
\ou think I m holding you back. You want to be 
tree. If you really cared for me, you wouldn't 
want to leave me. 

Allan. You're unreasonable, Winifred. 

\A iNiFRED. You're cruel. A man has no feelino- 
for home. ^ 

Allan. W'e must look beyond our own home 
to protect all homes. Think of the women of 
1^ ranee and Belgium. 

Winifred. I'm helping them all the time. 

Allan. Rut they have given their men. 
( There is a moment's silence, during which Allan 
sorts letters and Winifred knits.) 

W^tnifred. Mrs. Fowler asked me if she mi^ht 
come here to see the parade. I shouldn't think she 
would want to look at a boy in khaki, but 'she 
does. 

Allan. Will was her only son, wasn't he ^ 
Winifred. Yes, and he was killed in the ambu- 
lance service in France six months ago. 

(The door is pushed open. A woman in a dark 
blue work dress, zvith pail and mop, comes in 
i^ith embarrassment and hesitation. She is 
Polish. Her dark hair is drazvn back straight 
and tight. She is probably forty but looks 



10 FOR FREEDOM 

older. She stands still, looking at Allan, but 
saying nothing.) 

Allan. (Looking up) It's too early to scrub 
the office. 

Mrs. Prohaska. I know, sir, but 1 thought 
you wouldn't mind. Please, can't I do it, this 
morning? I won't be in the way. 

Allan. Why do you want to clean up here now? 

Mrs. Prohaska. (Hesitates and finally brings 
her words out with difficulty) I thought — I — see 
the parade from here. 

Allan. (Smiling) ^o you want to see the 
parade, do you? 

Mrs. Prohaska. (Proudly) My boy — he 
marches. 

Allan. Was he drafted? 

Mrs. Prohaska. They couldn't make \vm go- 
no — we Polish. But we love this big United States 
and my bov — he sav — he must fight for this coun- 
try. 

Allan. Had he taken out his naturalization 
papers ? 

Mrs. Prohaska. (Looking puzzled) I don't 
know what that mean. He go and write out some 
things, so he could be citizen and join the army. 

Allan. Are you willing to have him go? 

Mrs. Prohaska, (Putting her hand pver her 
heart) It hurts here — but it is what we have to do. 

(Allan looks at Winifred to see zvhal ijupression 
the Polish scrub-zvoman's zvords arc making on 
her, but Winifred goes on knitting, with the 
conflicting emotions of sympathy and stubborn 
pride in her face.) 

Allan. Won't it be hard for you to get along 
without him? 



FOR FREEDOM ii 

Mrs. Proiiaska. We — very poor. I have seven 
children. Joe — the oldest — he's twenty-two. He's 
good boy. He works and helps us ever since his 
pa run off. 

Allan. Did your husband leave you? 

Mrs. Prohaska. (Stolidly) My man go off 
when the last baby was two weeks old. She's eight 
now. We don't miss him much. He never was no 
good. You never miss that kind except for the 
swearing and knocking around. 

Allan. Too bad a bomb couldn't fall on him. 

Mrs. Prohaska. Him? He'd get out of the 
way. He always run away from trouble (Snapping 
her fingers) that quick. (With a proud smile) But 
Joe — he's a good boy. (She sighs) It's hard to 
have him go, but it's what we have to do. (Her 
face brightening) Can I stay and see him? 

Allan. (With a kindly laugh) I'll teM you 
what you do, Mrs. ? 

Mrs. Prohaska. Prohaska. 

Allan. Mrs. Prohaska: It will be fifteen min- 
utes before the parade passes here. You go and 
scrub up somewhere else — then come back here and 
stand right by that window \^-here you can see your 
Joe march by. 

Mrs. Prohaska. (IVifh a grateful sinile) Oh 
— sir — you so good. 

Allan. That's nothing. I like parades myself. 
We're all proud of the boys that marcri to-day. 

(Mrs. Prohaska picks up her pail and mop and 
starts out. She comCs back with a broad smile.) 

Mrs. Prohaska. 1 come back — right away. 
(She goes out) 

Winifred. It wasn't Mrs. Fowler after all. 

Allan. No, but another brave woman. The 
women of Poland have borne a lot. 



1-' FOR FREEDOM 

Winifred. And you think Fm not brave. 

Allan. I wish you had more war spirit 

Winifred. I don't want .more war spirit if that 
means letting you go — never. 

Allan. Do you realize that this is the greatest 
time in the history of the world — that we are fight- 
ing to end the tyranny of kings and the military 
caste that crushes the people, fighting to bring in the 
reign of democracy, justice and peace at last? It 
is a privilege to be livins; to-day and to fight this 
battle for human rights and human liberty. 

{There is a^ gentle knock.) 

Winifred. That must be Mrs. Fowler. 

(Allan opens the door. Mrs. Fowler comes in. 
She is a sweet-faced woman of fifty, dressed 
in mourning. She has sad eves, white hair 
and a brave, serene smile. She carries a knit- 
ting bag.) 

Allan. Good morning, Mrs. Fowler. Fm glad 
to see you. 

Mrs. Fowler. W^inifred was kind enough to in- 
vite me to your office this morning. 

Winifred. (Going to greet her) Fm so glad 
you've come. We'll have a fine view here. (Allan 
places a chair to the left of the desk for Mrs. 
Fowler, zvho removes her gloves as soon as she 
sits dozmi. She takes a sock out of her bag and 
be gin's to knit) 

Allan. It's a bird's-eye view that we have from 
our windows, but it's fascinating to look down on a 
mass of humanity from a height like this. 

Mrs. Fowler. And the music of the band sounds 
so well at this distance from the street. 

(Allan looks at his watch.) 
Allan. I'll go down and see a man on the floor 



FOR FREEDOM 13 

below and leave you to talk things over with Wini- 
fred. (At the door he turns and looks back at 
Winifred, but she does not meet his eyes. When 
he has gone Winifred takes up her knitting zvith a 
little sob. Mrs. Fowler zvatches her with an un- 
derstanding look) 

Mrs. Fowler. What is it, dear? 

Winifred. Life is so strange and the world 
so confused. 

Mrs. Fowler. But what is your problem ? What 
is troubling you? It's when we look through a mist 
of tears that the world seems confused. 

Winifred. Allan wants to go to France. 

Mrs. Fowler. That will be hard for you, I know. 

Winifred. {With the fierce determinatio7i of 
the self-zvilled zvoman) But I will not let him 
go — I will not. 

Mrs. Fowler. {Looking at her zvith the zvise 
smile of the zvoman zvho understands men) And 
you think you can hold him back? 

Winifred. I'm his wife. He says he will not 
go unless I am willing. I can't give him up. 

Mrs. Fowler. Dear, you have never known as 
much of giving up as most women. 

Winifred. No, I have always kept what I've 
wanted. And Allan is my dearest treasure. 

(Mrs. Fowler let's her knitting drop into her lap 
zvith a far-zvay, sad look in her eyes.) 

Mrs. Fowler, Your dearest treasure. 

Winifred. Oh, forgive me, Mrs. Fowler. I 
know that you lost everything in Will. 

Mrs. Fowler. I have not lost him. Although 
his body is lying far-away in a grave on French 
soil, he is nearer to me to-day than he has been 
since he was a child in my arms. 

WiNiRFED. You are so brave. I can't under- 
stand it. 



14 



FOR FREEDOM 



Mrs. Fowler. My dear, our men are not ours to 
keep ; they are ours to give to the world. The more 
a woman — mother or wife — tries to hold a man to 
herself the less he is hers. 

Winifred. But I have had Allan such a little 
while and what hurts me most is that he zvants to 
go. He doesn't mind the separation. 

Mrs. Fowler. A man feels the call of the world 
as a woman feels the call of home. There has al- 
ways been this difference between men and women. 

Winifred. Why must it be so? It means con- 
flict and heart-ache 

Mrs. Fowler. That i<s the way of progress. The 
world moves forward through struggle. But when 
the great war is over and this is a fairer, better 
world because our men have faced the crisis with 
undaunted courage, will it not be worth the heart- 
ache that you and I have known? 

Winifred. But 1 love Allan so much 

Mrs. Fowler. (Going to Winifred aud putting 
her hand on her shoulder) Dear, s-.-e must go 
through every, deep personal love to the larger love 
of the world. 

Winifred. It is so hard — so hard. 

Mrs. Fowler, 1 know, dear. All my hopes were 
centered on Will. His future was full of prom- 
ise. He was at college when the war broke out. 
In the Spring of 191 6 he joined the Ambulance 
Field Service in France. 

Winifred. Where he distinguished himself for 
bravery. 

Mrs. Fowler. They gave him the croix de 
guerre. His decoration is buried with him. 

(The band in the street belozv phiys "America, 
Here's my boy." } 

Winifred. The band ! The parade is coming 
this way. (Goes to 7vindow) 



FOR FREEDOM 15 

Mrs. Fowler. {Repeats softly) "America 
Here's my Boy." So many mothers are giving their 
boys. (Mrs. Fowler takes some letters out of her 
hag and sileiitlv looks them over ivhile Winifred 
listens to the music) 

Winifred. {Impatiently) 1 wish they would 
play something e.se. That gets on my nerves. 

Mrs. Fowler. His letters were so Hke him^ — 
gay, Hght-hearted and full of cheer. How he loved 
France ! He said " the French are so brave and 
so wonderfijl that I am proud to work by their 
side." Many a dark night he drove his ambulance 
throu.ffh mud. rain and bursting shell to bring i;i 
the wounded from the trenches. 

Winifred. His courage must be your com- 
fort 

Mrs. Fowler. It is. He fought for democracy 
as his ancestors in the Revolution fought for inde- 
pendence. He was true to his inheritance. 

Winifred. That's the pity of it. The flower 
of our young manhood are going. 

Mrs. Fowler. The glory of it you mean. This 
is his last letter. {Reading from a letter) " I went 
up into my baptism of fire. I believe that all of hell 
was turned into that valley. Shells were break- 
ing all around us. We worked all that night through 
the rain, mud, shot and shell. We neither thought 
of sleep or food. Wg had a real job in the war 
and we were glad to do it. 

Winifred. \Miat spirit he had! {Music stops) 

Mrs. Fowler. He was always like that — even 
when he was a Httle lad. — Is the parade passing? 

Winifred. Yes, and it's time for Allan to come 
back — and Mrs. Prohaska. 

Mrs. Fowler. {Still absorbed in her letter) ■ At 
the end of his letter he writes, '' We brought in six 
men — very seriously wounded. When I was pass- 
ing through a dark piece of woods, there was a 



i6 FOR FREEDOM 

terrible flash and explosion in the road directly 
in front of my car. It was a mine which the Ger- 
mans had exploded, but I got my six blesses safely 
to the hospital." {Folding up the letter) On his 
next trip a bursting shell struck him. 
Winifred. (Shudders) How terrible! 

( Music — Patrio tic m edley. ) 

Mrs. Fowler. He did his part. I believe his 
work still goes on. Yesterday one of the boys from 
Will's section came to see me — a fine, clear-eyed lad. 
He said, *' Mrs. Fowler, the boys who knew Will 
can never forget him. He was always ready to 
go mto danger— he never complained and he never 
shirked. After that shell struck him, one night 
I was in a tight place, it seemed as if I couldn't go 
on,— then I thought of Will and the way he died— 
and somehow, Mrs. Fowler, I got my nerve back 
and T drove my car as I never did befoVe." 

(The door is pushed slowly open and Mrs. Pro- 
iiASKA comes in zvithout her pail and mop. 
She hesitates at the door.) 

Winifred. (With a kindly smile) Come in, 
Mrs. Prohaska. 

Mrs. Prohaska. I hear music. Mavbc it is 
the Polska band. 

Winifred. (To Mrs. Fowler) Mrs. Prohaska 
is going to watch the parade from our window. Her 
son is in the draft army. 

Mrs. Fowler. You must be proud of him, Mrs 
Prohaska. 

Mrs. Prohaska. Yas, me proud of Joe. Is vour 
boy going too ? 

Mrs. Fowler. We went long ago and gave up 
his life in France. (Mrs. Prohaska^s face sad- 
dens, tears come to her eyes. She goes up to Mrs. 



FOR FREEDOM 17 

Fow-LER and tijuidly touches her sJwuldcr with 
her hand) 

Mrs. Prohaska. Sorry. 

Mrs. Fowler. Soldier boys must have soldier 
mothers. 

Mrs. Prohaska. You — soldier mother — me — 
soldier mother. 

Mrs. Fowler. When we are binding the wounds 
of bleeding humanity we cannot count the cost. 

Mrs. Prohaska. I had to get this job back 
when Joe say he go to war. He don't like to have 
me scrub here, but what can we do? We must 
eat and my children — it. takes a lot to fill them up. 
(Listens) The band! I must look. (She goes to 
Ziundow. TJicn she turns aivay disappointed) Joe 
not there. 

Winifred. (Looking out of the window) Those 
are the officers from Fort Sheridan. How strong 
and alert they look ! I hate to see- them go. 

Mrs. Prohaska. Oh! The (hesitates for the 
word) — swell folks. (Shaking her head) No — 
my Joe not with them. 

Winifred. Do you think you will kiiow your 
son? Can you i)ick him out among all the boys 
down there? 

Mrs. I'ROiiASKA. Me not know Joe? 1 know 
him here — I know him in heaven — 1 knovr him in 
—hell. 

(Allan comes in witJi an American flag, ichich he 
puts up.) 

Allan. Our boys will carry (Jld Giory to its 
place beside the Tri-Color and the Union Jack. 

Mrs. Prohaska. See — so many, many boys. 

/\llan. Rich and poor — American and foreigner 
are marching together. " Over there " they'll all 
be Sammies — Sammies fighting side by side with 
the Poilus and the Tommies and the :\nzacs. 



i8 FOR FREEDOM 

Mrs. Prohaska. Are they all going — over there 
— where the big war is? 

Allan. Yes, going to fight the Boches and 
beat the Kaiser. Soon they'll be on the road to 
France. Oh the gallant French, who held back 
the Huns at the Marne, w^ho shouted, '' They shall 
not pass " at Verdun ! They are waiting for our 
boys to help them. 

Mrs. Fowler. We owe a debt to France for 
the burden she *has borne. (Allan places chairs 
near the window for Mrs. Fowler and Winifred. 
Then he takes some field glasses from the d^sk.) 

Allan. Mrs. Fowler, wouldn't you like the 
glasses ? 

Mrs. Fowler. No, thank you. I can see very 
well. 

Allan. [Holding them out) Winifred? 

Wintered. Let Mrs. Prohaska have them to see 
Joe. {Music stops) 

(Allan hands them to Mrs. Prohaska. She takes 
them but does not know hozv to use them and 
gets them zvrong end to. Allan shozvs her 
hozv to use them, and she looks through them 
zvith delight.) 

Mrs. Prohaska. Look — at them — what do you 
call them? Dagos? 

Allan. Italians. 

Mrs. Prohaska. Yas — Eyetalians march too. 
And see — all them — niggers — you say? 

Allan. Our black brothers. 

Mrs. Prohaska. They fight too ? 

Allan. Yes, — for Uncle Sam. 

Mrs. Prohaska. Uncle Sam have great big 
family. 

Allan. {Pointing out of the zuindozv) There 
go some young Jews. — There's a big, blonde Swede. 
--I think those are Greeks. They look as if they 



FOR FREEDOM 19 

might have been pushing fruit carts yesterday. Do 
you see that tall dark soldier, straight as an ar- 
row? 

Mrs. Proiiaska. No — oh, vn-— 1 see him. 
What is he? 

Alan. He's a real American. 

Mrs. Proiiaska. (Pu::dcd) Real American? 
What's that? 

Allan. An Indian. 

Mrs. Proiiaska. Oh. I understand. Look — 
look — laundryman — Chinaman. 

Allan. He, too, is going to do his bit. The 
American army is a great melting pot. And no 
slackers there. 

(Martial luitsic is heard in the distance.) 

Mrs. Prohaska. (Joyfully) The Polska band! 

Allan. Brave little Poland ! 

Mrs. Proiiaska. Our people starve. — The rob- 
ber nations — they destroy the land — Our people die 
— no fires to keep them warm — no homes — no food. 
Our men made to fight in the German army — made 
to fight their brothers^ — our women put to shame. 
It is black night in Poland. 

Allan. But the dawn will come. Poland's sor- 
rows will end. 

Mrs. Prohaska. My Joe say — United States 
is big brother to our little country. 

Allan. Yes, and we will put forth our strong 
arm for all the weak nations who need our help. 

Mrs. Prohaska. (Looking out of the zvindow, 
greatly excited) There — there's my boy. — He go 
— he fight — maybe he die — but Poland will be free. 

Allan. All people will be free. Democracy will 
win in this battle against despotism. 

Mrs. Prohaska. I go now. (To x^llan) You 
fight too? 
(Allan does not anszvcr, but looks at Winifred.) 

Mrs. Prohaska. No? You're brave man. I 



20 FOR FREEDOM 



think you light too. (Going to Mrs. Fowler) Your 
boy — he die for U!5. 

ISIrs. Fowler. God bless you. 

Mrs. Prohaska. The men — they must go — high 
up — what you say? "Over the top?" 

Allan. Over the top to victory. 

Mrs. Proiiaska. • (Tuniing to Winifred) And 
you and me — must send them. When they are gone, 
we must make fire burn — (Hei' face lights up) Keep 
the home fires burning 'til the boys come home. 
( Music stops) 

(W^intfred impulsively holds out her hand to Mrs. 
Prohaska. but caiHwt speak. Mrs. Prohaska 
takes her hand gratefully.) 

Mrs. Proiiaska. Thanks. (She goes to the 
door^ turning just before she goes out) Good-bye. 

Allan. Good-bye, Mrs. Prohaska. Pm glad to 
have met you. 

Mrs. Proiiaska. Thanks, evervbodv. {She goes 
out) 

xMrs. Fowler. {Rising and turning to Wini- 
fred) Oh, Winifred, can't you hear the women 
over there calling to us? The women of bleeding 
F^rance, of devastated Belgium, of suffering Poland 
are holding out their hands to us — and saying, " Our 
young girls cry for protection, our little children 
cry for bread — sisters in America send us your 
men, send us your strong young men." 

Winifred. Do they need them all— all? 

Allan. They are calling to America to help. 
If we wait it may be too late. Can't we answer, 
''Hold the lines — we are coming?" 

(Winifred goes up to Allan deeply moved.) 

Winifred. Go, Allan, go. I want you to go. 
(Allan takes her in his arms.) 

Curtain. 

3477-17S 
Lot 53 



Jo. 



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